


Midnight's Drabbles

by pl600titties



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Collars, Cute, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Leashes, M/M, More will be added, Non-sexualized humiliation, Public Humiliation, pheacker - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl600titties/pseuds/pl600titties
Summary: oh look the drabble collection nobody asked for(originally just pheacker drabbles, but extended to all hamilton ships)





	Midnight's Drabbles

"You've got a lot of hair," George mused absentmindedly. He was lying on Philip's bed, one hand twisting and playing with his hair.  
"It's full of secrets." Philip muttered in reply. Philip, who was resting next to him, leaning into his touch. Content in his presence.

"I guess I'm one of 'em." George added with a light smile.

"The biggest one," Philip replied cheerfully. He leaned closer to George, lips brushing against his ear. A soft shiver. "I'll tell you another one if you promise to keep it."  
"Promise," George pressed his lips to the crook of Philip's neck and planted soft kisses there.  
"Ready?" Philip leaned closer to George's ear with a little smile playing on his features.  
"My parents are home."  
George shrugged, continuing to kiss Philip's neck. He rubbed a thumb over the bite mark on Philip's shoulder, the one that he'd made a few hours before. It was mostly covered up by his shirt, but a trained eye could see the teeth marks where George had marked him.  
"They're gonna check on me, y'know," Philip said, and he meant it, but George refused to be the slightest bit worried. He shrugged again. "My Ma might --"  
"I don't care what she does, Philip." He smirked into Philip's skin. "'Sides, if she comes up here, I'll just hide under the bed."  
He made a delighted little gasp. "You wouldn't."  
"I would," He replies in such a nonchalant way that Philip knows he means it, and believes him. He almost laughs imagining it.  
A few minutes of comfortable silence, and Philip can hear footsteps outside his door.  
"George, you - " He can't even get a word out before George presses a quick kiss to his lips (something that he should be used to by now, but he still blushes) and jumps off of him, landing on the floor with a thud and rolling underneath the bed.  
It can't be very comfortable; the space between the bed and the floor isn't a wide margin, and the fact that George managed to slip through so quickly is almost as impressive as it is amusing. It's almost like he's had experience with hiding from suspicious parents.  
Philip makes a note to ask him about that later. He can almost imagine George making a joke about it, something about having experience with slipping inside of tight spaces, when the door opens.  
His mother is on the other side, looking as cheerful yet suspicious as ever.  
"Philip, we're back!" She says happily. "Is everything all right? Did anything happen while I was gone?"  
"No, Ma! M'fine," Philip replies quickly. A bit too quickly. His mother looks around the room, as if she's trying to find George's hiding spot. Philip sweats. She can't know.  
"What have I told you..." She starts in a condescending tone. "About leaving your clothes on the floor?"  
Philip lets out a relieved sigh that he prays she won't hear, and shuffles over to pick up the t-shirt and sock that are right next to his bed, placing them in the laundry bin.  
"Sorry, Ma." He mumbles apologetically. She smiles, patting his cheek.  
"Nothing to be sorry for, darling." Just then, William (bless Philip's brother for his good timing) calls out from the kitchen.  
"Mama, Angie took my toy!" His mother scurries off quickly, and Philip peeks under the bed.  
"Boop." George pokes him on the nose.  
"You can come out now," Philip laughs. "She's gone, I think."  
"What have I told you about leaving your clothes on the floor?" George mimics his mother's scolding voice, offering him a dust-covered sock that had been underneath the bed for who knows how long. He took it with another laugh, popping up to toss the sock in the laundry bin.  
George crawls out awkwardly, one limb at a time. He looks up at Philip with a grin.  
"I told you I would." He laughs lightly, yanking Philip down to the floor with him.


End file.
